Resilience
by Fiendfyres
Summary: -"I was standing in front of the distantly familiar redwood house again, crumbling at the edges yet holding on as it had for years. I was at their doorstep; all I had to do was extend my hand and reach the bell." Bella pays a visit to La Push. Oneshot.


Just a little piece I wrote after finishing New Moon (about a couple months back). Please don't forget to leave your comments once you finish!

Disclaimer: All characters, terms and settings are the copyrighted content of Stephenie Meyer. I'm just playing around, and I have no intention of profiting from this work in any way.

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**RESILIENCE  
**

By CascadingCrimson

I'd been putting this off for so long.

It hung in the back of my mind, hovering as though anxious to spill over. And I'd been equally stubborn, unwilling to give in, reining it in with as much force as I could. It was easier then, in the beginning. Shoved aside, as though it was nothing of significance. A product of my delusion, a consequence of my desperation, a sidetrack of my hysteria.

It had been easier to delude myself then.

But then it struck me again, suddenly and with so much force that I'd found myself gasping for breath, trying to still my pounding heart, forcing me to face emotions that I hadn't ever expected to face again. I walked in a daze, something which I wasn't completely unfamiliar by this point, not realising when I'd grabbed my keys and driven my rickety old truck to the once haven of a refuge I'd made for myself.

Just the thought of the truck had me trembling again. I hadn't driven it for so long.

And then realisation slammed me in the face. I was standing in front of the distantly familiar redwood house again, crumbling at the edges yet holding on as it had for years. I was at their doorstep; all I had to do was extend my hand and reach the bell.

I couldn't bring myself to do it.

I almost turned round and fled. I couldn't do this – it was impossibly crazy. How many times had I been like that in the past few months? I skimmed the edges of my memory, but it was relentlessly elusive; I could remember no more than what I had had for lunch that day. Fisting my hands as an attempt to control my runaway emotions, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

The bell rung, once, twice. I opened my eyes just in time to see my hand withdrawing from the door.

A whizz of an electric wheelchair, and a huff. The door opened, and a face appeared, so pleasantly familiar and yet just as distant.

"Bella?" The gruff voice was incredulous, and I nearly did turn on my heel and bolt.

"Billy." My voice sounded so different. Had it been really me who just spoke?

"Come in," he said, wheeling away from the door to allow me a way into the house.

I hesitated. "Is – um -"

Understanding flitted in his eyes, but his gaze was still wandering across my face. I could feel them focusing on my eyes; I probably had dark enough circles under them to credit his theory.

"He's out back. Near the beach. 'Been spending a lot of time there lately."

I nodded as Billy pointed northwards, as though he didn't expect me to remember. I found it hard to blame him. I backed out through the door and climbed down the steps, letting my feet take me where my mind had already drifted. It was as though I was skimming across a book that had once been the centre of my preoccupation, but had been left behind. The path winded narrowly, but it wasn't jarring enough to knock me out of my trance; rather, it seemed to be embracing me, welcoming me back to its haven of ferns and spruce.

And I could hear it now. The soft lapping of sea against shore, with a lucidity that felt oddly comforting. It was like pieces of my earlier life were piecing their way back into me again, and I couldn't do anything to stop it.

Not that I wanted it to stop.

The sand was damp against the edges of my feet, clinging to my feet. I didn't stop of shake it out, instead opting to keep drifting to the place I had found myself in numerous times in my past. It felt like another life now, another universe, where I had spent my time crying and laughing and doing things I couldn't dare to do anymore. The note of nostalgia brimmed over suddenly, but instead of producing anything akin to grief, it coalesced and erupted in the form of laughter, laughter that had a tinge of hysteria to it. I would probably sound mad to anyone to anyone who was within hearing distance, I realised subconsciously.

I sucked in a breath to stifle it. There wasn't anyone around me, but I knew that didn't equate to no one hearing my momentary loss of control.

The path cleared, and when I pushed back a branch of oak obstructing my view, the sun hit me so hard I had to squint. Sunset. I hadn't realised it was time already.

And he was there, just as Billy had said. His back was towards me, russet skin glowing in the dimming sunlight, a sharp coppery tint that shimmered against the golden sand; the lack of contrast would have made him invisible had it not been for the chock of messy, black hair that stood out vividly, piercing my eyes. I turned my gaze downwards as I walked forward, concentrating on the ground and yet uncaring, for once, of whether I would be able to make it through in one piece.

He didn't turn, though I knew he had probably heard me since I had parked outside the house. I didn't bother with greetings, instead dropping to my knees and then sitting down fully next to him, curling my legs so I could wrap my hands around them and rest my chin. It was a similar posture to his, but his legs were stretched out more, one hand tightly fisted on his knee, the other gathering sand before raising it to let go, again and again like a never ending hourglass.

I didn't speak. For a while, all I could hear was the rush of falling sand, of the roar of sea water against the shore, of the cry of seagulls in the distance, of the whistle of salty, biting winds that blew insistently around us. It felt good to be in such an open atmosphere again; it had been a while since I'd experienced the feelings that rose inside me. The wind blew my hair viciously into my face, and despite my sitting position, I felt like I was flying. With a start, I realised that it was the same thrill I'd felt on the motorbike rides along the back road. I had to swallow an urge to go and jump off a cliff.

The sun was nearly invisible now, swallowed by the roaring sea and casting a reddish ribbon of light along the horizon. I stared at the darkening sky, seemingly feeling and wondering why I had suddenly become so perceptive of the world around me. I smelled the air, felt my ears perking up in the sudden drop of temperature, relished the taste of salt against my tongue, dug my feet further into the sand. All the while, Jacob sat motionless next to me, except for his hand continued to pour sand with a hush.

A small pebble flew out of nowhere and plunged down into the sea, drowning instantly. I started, realising that Jacob had tossed it.

It was that sudden _splash_ that broke the silence between us. I closed my eyes for a moment to brace myself.

"Five months," he muttered. Another pebble flew to meet its fate under. "It took you five months."

His voice was carefully neutral, his expression hidden behind a hard mask of stoicism. I looked down, not knowing what to say.

_Splash_. Another pebble. "What'd you think? That I'd come running back like an obnoxious idiot, trying to take _his_ place?"

"Jake," I said, eyes closed, and surprised myself when I choked on it. I cleared my throat, but Jacob pretended as though I hadn't spoken.

_Splash. _And another.

"Oh wait, that is the impression you must've had of me either way," he said, with a bitter sarcasm that instigated a lurch somewhere in my mid-section. "That's what you've always thought of me, huh? An obnoxious idiot who's never heard of 'personal space' before."

"You know that's not true," I responded quietly. His eyes flashed, and he rolled onto his knees, turning so he was facing me. His large hands gripped my shoulders so hard I nearly winced, but then they loosened, radiating heat through my body.

I raised my gaze to meet his own unflinchingly. He stared at me for one second, face so close to my own that I could smell his fresh, woodsy scent, could feel his warmth seeping into my cold body. He kept staring until his firm, cynical expression faltered, a crumpled look appearing in his eyes, genuine and full of sorrow.

My vision was blurring. I choked on my breath in order to tighten the tenuous, flimsy hold on myself, but it was too late. And I knew that he'd realised it too.

"Oh Bella," he said, his voice shattering into a million pieces around me.

"You don't need to put this on yourself," I whispered, voice cracking, before the dam burst. As though expecting it, his hands travelled to my waist as he encircled me into a hug, so firm that he seemed intent to stifle my sobs altogether. It was exactly what I needed, and I buried my face in his shoulder, hanging onto him as though for dear life.

Because it had suddenly become very clear why I was here, and the realisation brought with it an onslaught of grief that was too heavy for me to bear. And Jacob was there, and I needed him. He was trying to save me from myself, and I needed that so desperately that I clutched onto him like the world was ending. He was trying to share my burden, lessen the weight, though I knew, and I suspected he did too, that it was in vain.

"It'll be okay," he murmured soothingly, but his voice didn't contain any real conviction. "You'll be okay," his voice was stronger now, a hint of a promise lurking behind his words.

"The – Volturi -" I stammered, trying to stem my flow of tears with an angry swipe at my eyes.

"Shh," he murmured, "Don't think about that now. It'll be okay, Bella, with a bit of time, it will."

And he held me while I let my grief out, pouring out in endless amounts until I was too exhausted to cry anymore. I felt like my eyes had emptied themselves completely, until no more tears could replace the length of my blotchy cheeks.

"I'm s-sorry," I said, wiping my face with the back of my hand. "I'm so sorry -"

"Ssshh," he whispered in my ear, "Don't. Everything will be all right."

And somehow, it seemed true. Not any time soon, not in the immediate future. But someday. For the first time, I could see a light at the end of the tunnel, could dream of moving past this long, seemingly endless, dark existence awash with shadows of the past, could hope to breathe outside of this living nightmare.

"Everything will be all right, Bella. I promise." His voice was nothing more than whisper, and yet carried an intensity that belied its strength.

This was Jacob, a person who I had come to love as my best friend, maybe even more.

So I did the only thing that made sense to me.

I trusted him, and clung on to that hope, his promise.

_Fin._

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